


a very hands-on situation

by PrincezzShell101



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A very good one indeed, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Sexual Situations, Derek is a Good Alpha, Dildos, Embarrassed Stiles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:26:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincezzShell101/pseuds/PrincezzShell101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last time Derek checked, this wasn't listed as one of an alpha's priorities.</p><p>Or: The one where Stiles somehow gets a dildo stuck up his ass and Derek is there to the rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a very hands-on situation

**Author's Note:**

> The story is a canon divergence. It takes place in a universe where the alpha pack and darach never happened but Cora still did, Jackson never left, Erica and Boyd are still alive, and Derek never left Beacon Hills. Also Derek is still the alpha and his pack consists of Scott, Isaac, Jackson, Boyd, Erica, Cora, Danny, Lydia, Allison and Stiles.
> 
> I spent nearly all last night writing this and then today making a few final touches. I've hogged the computer for longer than it should be. By now, I believe my mum thinks I've gone bonkers. But that aside, I am very happy with how this turned out :)

Being an alpha isn't an easy job, it takes leadership and a lot of responsibility. You need to know how to communicate with your pack, and not just communicate with the betas as a whole—as a group—but you also need to communicate with them individually. Alphas aren't just there to order around their betas, they're there to be their friend as well. An alpha holds a certain amount of trust, someone who the betas can entrust their life with if a situation takes a deadly turn of events. For that—for a beta to trust their alpha—the alpha needs to get to know each one of their betas personally. Connect with them. Only then, can a strong bond be formed. If the bond between alpha and beta is strong, it then travels throughout the pack and begins strengthening the other betas as well. It changes the whole meaning of  _pack_. Not just a pack anymore, but a family.

As an alpha, one of Derek's highest priorities is to have the pack—his family—feel safe and comfortable around him. He wants them to feel like they can tell him everything and anything. Whether it be about a new person in town that they think could turn out to be an eventual threat to Beacon Hills or just trivial problems where they need relationship advice or require help with homework, Derek there's for moral support. He's there to be a mature adult figure that they can rely on whenever they need him. Not just for the werewolves in his pack, but also for the humans as well.

 _Stiles_.

Stiles is one of four humans in his pack. Lydia, Danny and Allison are too. But Stiles? Stiles is the only human in his pack that seems to take Derek's 'alpha priorities' seriously. Maybe a little  _too_ seriously.

He can never forget the time Stiles had text him for help. It is literally branded in his mind, a corner of his brain so deep that no amount of trying to forget would erase it…

Not that he ever  _wants_ to erase it, though.

***

Derek is lounging on the couch of his loft, reading a book with the lamp's soft light filling the room, when his phone vibrates in his pocket. With a sigh, he thumbs the page's edge for a bookmark, slipping the book shut and placing it on the coffee table with its spine up. He slips his phone out of his back pocket, opening the text.

_sourwolf need ur help – S_

Stiles needs his help. Shit. What could the kid have done this time?

_Stiles? What is it? What's wrong? – D_

_i'm stuck and i mean like seriously stuck so i need u 2 come help me – S_

"He's  _stuck_ _,_ " Derek snorts, shaking his head.

_Stuck? Stiles, stuck how? Where are you? – D_

_doesn't matter and i'm at home now please hurry dude – S_

Okay, that has got his attention. Stiles's texts are rushed. Also, he never says  _please_ unless it is absolutely necessary, futile if you will. So, whatever this is, it is important.

Derek doesn't think, doesn't  _care_  that it is well past nine o'clock at night, just drives over to the Stilinski residence in a hurry, speeding at least half of the way. He ends up parking a street down, sprinting up to the premises and vaulting the side of the house. When he gets up to the ledge of Stiles's window, he finds that the window is closed and locked.

"Stiles!"

He bangs his fist on the window, and then waits for something. Anything. A sign that Stiles is in there, that Stiles can hear him.

No answer.

He tries again.

"STILES!"

Still no answer.

Derek growls, feeling the wolf in him coursing through his veins. His wolf is a rumbling force in his chest, a magnetic pull in his mind, and a tugging sensation in his stomach. It's panicking.  _He_ is panicking. One of his pack is in trouble and he can't even get  _in_  to help them.

Derek does not have the time to wait any longer. Stiles may seriously be hurt. He says that he is stuck, but that can also mean something else, something bad. Stiles is one of the most cryptic people he knows.

So, with one foot he kicks the window open, boot smashing completely through the glass. He wastes no time in climbing inside, too riled up in his worry that Stiles might be hurt to care about the pain when a glass shard slashes into his arm. It'll heal in seconds, anyway.

The room is dark and empty, Stiles's bed unmade with the covers halfway shucked over the sides. Stiles's laptop is also on, dimmed glare of the Captain America desktop screen the only light in the room. Derek notices the bedroom door is closed, and when he tries to open it he finds that it is locked.

"Damn it," Derek mutters, rattling the doorknob, and then when that doesn't work, twisting and pulling at the doorknob with both hands. " _Stiles_!"

"Over here."

Derek's hand clenches around the doorknob, wolf rumbling in his chest when he hears the soft voice coming from somewhere behind him. It is at that moment when he realises that he hasn't, not once, tried to scent the room when he'd arrived.

He closes his eyes, inhaling through his nose.

Immediately, he catches the scent of Stiles that had eluded him moments before. It is stronger than usual, musky and traced with a hint of sweat.

He turns around, hand loosening and falling away from the doorknob. He takes a glance around the room, letting his irises bleed red. The darkness that sweeps over the room is no match for his heightened eyesight. Everything around him soon becomes visible, illuminated like he is looking through a tinted camera lens.

It is only when he trains his eyes to the furthest corner of the room, does he find Stiles huddled up against the wall with a pillow over his… crotch.

"Stiles."

The boy looks up, eyes wide and lips parted. Derek sees—even with his red highlighted vision—that Stiles has a blush flushing over his cheeks.

"Stiles, what's going on?" he asks, cautious edge to his voice. When Stiles doesn't reply, just stares at him bug-eyed, Derek slowly takes a step forward. "Stiles, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on. You said you were—"

"Stuck." Stiles's voice wavers when he speaks. "Yeah, I'm… I am."

Derek sighs, not sure what to think. 'Stuck' can mean many things, though not many fit under the category of: sitting on the floor of your bedroom in the dark with a pillow over your crotch.

Unless…  

 _Oh_.

The smell of musk and sweat that Derek had smelt earlier which—when he checks, is still permeating the air—is probably the first thing that should have clued him in to what he is dealing with.

What Stiles's ' _stuck'_ situation is.

"Please. Tell me you  _didn't_." Stiles bites his lip, worrying it between his teeth as his eyes flicker down to the ground in embarrassment, his fingers that are clutching the pillow curling around the edges of the material. " _Stiles_."

"I was just trying it out! It was fine until—" He lifts the pillow hesitantly, closing his eyes and turning his head away. "Until it got stuck…"

Derek can only stare, feeling strong sympathy for the kid as his mouth goes dry.

 _Of course_ Stiles would get a dildo stuck in his ass.

"How long—" He stops himself before his voice can crack, clearing his throat quietly as he kneels down beside Stiles. "How long has it…?"

"Nearly two hours," Stiles sighs, wincing when he shifts his knees. "I tried to, y'know, take it out. But, uh… I kind of, um, just ended up pushing it further  _in_?"

"And you want me to—" Derek coughs, winces. "Help?"

Stiles's nose scrunches up like what he is about to say physically pains him. Well, unless it's the dildo stuck in his ass. Probably is. "Trust me, dude, if I could get  _anyone_  else to help me, I would. But, um, if you haven't realised." He waves his hand in the general area of his crotch. "Dildo. In the ass. Don't think anyone would want to get up close and personal to  _that_."

"So you thought you'd just text  _me_ , get  _me_  to come over, and have  _me_  help you take it out," Derek deadpans.

"Uh,  _ha_ , well when you put it like  _that_." Derek arches an eyebrow and Stiles sighs, shoulders slumping. "Yes. Yes, I did." When Derek just huffs, he frowns. "Hey! Don't think that this isn't as awkward for me as it is for you. Because it is! You have  _no_   _idea_."

"Believe me, I have a pretty good idea," he groans. Stiles makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, lips quirking up in a small smirk.

"Did you—"

"Shut up," Derek growls. "I'm not here to talk about me. I'm here to… help you." He tilts his head to the side, looking down at Stiles's ass at a different angle. "I still have no idea how you got that stuck up there. It's pretty big."

Stiles snaps his mouth shut to hold back his undignified squawk. "Hey! But yeah, I guess it is." The flush on his cheeks grows redder than pink. "Um, I've found that small ones don't really… do the trick?"

"Okay." Derek nods. He understands. When he was younger, he'd found out the same thing. He hadn't got the thing stuck up his ass though… Well, not for  _this_ long. (Werewolf, and all.) "Have you tried bearing down?"

"What? Like a  _pregnant_ woman?" At Derek's scowl, he sighs. "Yes. Yes, I tried. It didn't work."

"Jumping up and down?"

" _Seriously_?"

"Yes."

"Uh… no?"

"Try it."

Stiles blanches. "No way, dude. I am  _not_ doing that."

Derek shrugs. "Fine, if you want it stuck up there forever…"

Stiles's blanch turns more into a look of pure horror, blush sinking away as his face pales. "I don't want this stuck up here forever. Oh, my God."

"Then try jumping up and down. If it comes out, I won't have to stick my hand up your ass."

This time Stiles  _does_  squawk. "Y-You  _what_!?"

Derek huffs. "Just try it, Stiles."

"Okay, all right. I'll jump up and down like a fuckin' rabbit in _heat_ if it helps this thing come out." He gets himself up, hissing and hiding a small wince—not that Derek doesn't see it—as he steadies his shaky hands on the closet behind him as he stands up straight.

Derek watches Stiles with a blank face, even though truthfully, all he really wants to do is help the kid out and save him the pain by just removing it for him.

"Okay, I'm  _not_ jumping up and down with you staring at me." Stiles looks down at Derek sitting on the floor in front of him, expression emotionless and staring back up at him. The guy's face is in eye level of his genitals, and Derek can really just sneak a close-up peek at them very  _easily_ if he decides to drift his eyes downward a little bit further. Yep, he does. Fuck everything. "Or, well, staring at my dick. Anyway! Get out." Stiles points to the door.

Derek remains sitting, not moving. "Stiles, you're being ridiculous."

"I'm being ridic— _no_. No, I'm not! Seriously, dude, this is a  _no-go_. Me not jumping, if you not leaving." Stiles glares at Derek even despite the childish attitude that he is showing, hoping the guy will just take a bloody hint and leave already so he can get this show on the road.

The sooner this thing is out of his ass, the sooner he can crawl under his bed covers and hide away from the world in embarrassment for the rest of his life.

"I'm not leaving. If that thing doesn't come out, I'm going to have to go in. Also, watching you jumping up and down wouldn't be as humiliating as what I've seen of you already," Derek states flatly.

It takes a few seconds, but eventually Stiles deflates, the riled-up look in his eyes slowly growing weaker and weaker until it's nothing but a sad look of defeat.

"You're right. Fuck. You're  _totally_ right," Stiles groans. He looks down at the ground, seeing the pillow and bending down to pick it up, placing it over his crotch. "I'm still using this. I am  _not_ letting you see my bouncin' balls."

Derek snorts. "It wouldn't be the scariest thing I've seen." Before Stiles can squeak a response, he holds his hand up. "Just go. Jump."

"But, but you—you just said…"

" _Jump_."

"Okay, okay.  _Yeesh_." Stiles secures the pillow over his crotch, holding it there tightly, before taking a deep breath and jumping up, then down again, up then down again, up then—" Ow, ow,  _ow_. Okay, I can't—I can't do this," he yelps.

Derek clenches his jaw, holding himself back from wrestling the kid down onto the bed and driving his hand in there and taking it out. "What is it?"

"It  _hurts_ ,is what is it," Stiles whines. "I can't, Derek, okay? Whenever I jump it feels like someone is literally  _kicking me_   _up the ass_."

Derek actually winces. He knows the feeling all too well. "All right, I didn't want to do this," he oh-so-totally  _does_ , "but I'm going to have to take it out. Lie down on the bed."

Stiles makes an absolutely pitiful noise in the back of his throat. 

 _Not as pitiful as the sounds he's going to be making when I've got my hand shoved up his ass_ , Derek thinks as Stiles waves his arms about like he's having a mini freak-out episode.

"Lie down on the—oh no.  _No_. No I am  _not_ letting you put  _that_ ," he points at Derek's large hand, "up my butt. Nope, nah- _uh_. Not happening, buddy."

Sometimes Derek wishes that Stiles was like any other  _normal_  human being, but no. He has to overreact with everything.

"Stiles, this is the final option. It's either I take it out, or it stays in there." He leaves a pause for dramatic effect. "Forever." Another pause, plus a small smirk that he can't keep buried down anymore. "You know, I've heard that forever is a long time. And Stiles, I really don't think you'd be able to put up with that thing nestled in there for–"

" _Ugh_ , just shut up! Shut  _up_!" Stiles puts both hands over his ears, mouth screwed up in a horrible grimace. "Oh my God. I hate you, Derek. I. HATE. YOU."

"Oh, so you hate me. Okay. Well, I guess that means you don't really want me to help you then, huh?"

Stiles unblocks his ears and his mouth falls open in an O that is a mix between shock and stupor. Derek chuckles.

"Don't worry, I understand. It's perfectly fine." He shrugs, flashing a wicked grin. "Have a nice night, Stiles." He stands up and starts walking toward the window, is just about to step over the wrecked glass and put one foot onto the roof, when Stiles cries out, " _Wait_! Derek, wait! Please don't go!"

Derek turns around, observing Stiles's face that is now flushed pink like earlier. "Yes, Stiles? Anything I can do for you?" He smiles nicely—maybe a little bit too  _sarcastic-_ nicely—and crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for a reply.

Stiles mutters a curse. "Just do it."

Derek can hear the boy's heart beating a mile a minute.

"Just do  _what_ , Stiles?" he teases. He can't help but play with the kid a bit. It's always priceless.

Derek doesn't think Stiles will actually say it—and not  _like that_ —but nevertheless, he does manage to, even if it  _is_ said with the trace of a shy quiver in his voice. 

"Please, take the dildo out of my ass," Stiles murmurs, pink flush not pink anymore, but scarlet.

Derek catches the choking cough in his throat before it manages to leap out of him. He nods once, slowly, walking over to sit on the bed and patting the spot in front of him. "Lie down," he says. He watches Stiles hesitantly walk over, pillow still held over his genitals as he lies down where Derek has indicated, crossing his legs underneath him.

"No. Don't do that." Derek points to Stiles's legs. "Spread them out."

"Why?" Stiles asks shakily, shy with embarrassment.

Derek sighs. "Because I can't get to it with you lying like that. Now spread them. And take that damn pillow away."

Stiles groans, spreads his legs out and takes the pillow away slowly, hesitantly. When it's gone, he closes his eyes, turning his head away and burying it into the mattress shamefully. "There. No pillow. Legs spread," he says, voice muffled by the mattress. "Now hurry up and take it out before I literally die of humiliation."

Derek resists the urge to run his hand through Stiles's hair soothingly, to pet the shame right out of him, instead taking a look down at what he needs to deal with.

Stiles's hole is stretched, stretched wide enough that Derek can see right up the kid's ass like a tunnel. The dildo is wedged there deep, and Derek can just make out the end of it.

It's red.

"Red for Little Red. Should have guessed," he muses, chuckling when Stiles buries his head further into the mattress and whines. "All right. Stiles, I'm going to try and take it out now. Is that okay?" he asks. Stiles just nods, and he takes that as a good enough answer as any.

Derek very slowly wriggles in his index finger, and Stiles whimpers when it enters him straight away. Derek almost lets out a small whimper himself when he adds the second finger, finding out that just like the first, it slips in without any need of necessary pressing or pushing. Stiles's ass is stretched out wide enough and slicked with enough lube that his fingers slide inside easily.

By the time Derek is up to his fourth finger, Stiles's ass is clenching around all four, his muscles fluttering and pulsing around the girth of them. Derek just can't resist, pulling them all out before pushing them back in with one slick slide.

Stiles's small and quiet moan is muffled by the mattress, but Derek can still hear his heavily shaken breathing as he does it again and again, wet sound of his fingers entering and existing Stiles's hole driving him and his wolf crazy. What drives him even more crazy, is when he sees a white glob of pre-come spurt out of the slit of Stiles's cock. He inhales sharply, heady smell of salt and arousal filling his nostrils.

"God,  _fuck_ , Stiles. You're so stretched. So, so open for me," he groans before he can stop himself, pushes and presses his fingers in deeper, sliding them in and out in fast, non-rhythmic movements.

Stiles starts moaning unabashedly now, not caring to be quiet. His face isn't smothered in the mattress anymore so the noises of pleasure are loud and clear, not muffled and incoherent. Derek can feel his own dick hardening in his jeans, can feel the blood boiling beneath his skin as his wolf rumbles deeply in his chest.

Derek is so entranced, indulging in the silky, wet heat of Stiles's ass and the constant little drawn out  _ah's_ and _oh's_ leaving the kid's mouth, that the motive of why he's doing this completely eludes him. It is only when the tips of his fingers make contact with something hard and plastic does Stiles make a high-sounding keen, and Derek remembers what he is meant to be doing in the first place.

"Shit," he mutters, feeling like a complete idiot. He presses his fingers in further, further enough so he can feel how the dildo lengthens out into a thick base. He won't be able to grab it like this, though. He has to go deeper. "Stiles, I need to get deeper so I can get this out. Okay?"

Stiles groans, a low-pitched noise that sounds almost wrecked. "Fuck. O-Okay. Dig deeper, sure."

Derek withholds a snort, instead pushes his fingers in deeper, fanning them out into a high-four, his thumb that is pressing against Stiles's rim the only finger missing from it being a high-five. He needs to have his whole  _hand_ in Stiles to do that, and he doesn't think Stiles, let alone him, will be able to deal with fisting right now.

Especially  _him_.

He'd definitely lose control of the wolf if he saw Stiles's hole taking his entire hand, rim stretched to the extreme to accommodate his large fist, muscles gripping tight and sucking it whole into that moist cavern of slick, wet heat and—he has to stop thinking about fisting Stiles and get on with what he's meant to be doing before he goes insane.

"I can feel the base. I'm going to wrap my fingers around it and take it out now, okay?" he says. Stiles makes a small, choked noise in the back of his throat, but Derek still manages to catch the nod the kid sends his way. With Stiles's affirmation of further actions, he carefully curls his fingers around the base of the dildo, before very slowly drawing it out an inch, stopping to look up at Stiles's face to make sure what he's doing isn't hurting him.

Oh, it most certainly does  _not_ look like it is hurting him.

Not one bit.

Stiles's eyes are closed, his lips parted on a silent gasp. The moon outside is now positioned so that the moonlight is shining directly through the open window, casting its illuminated glow over the bed. It is because of this that Derek can see the flush on Stiles's cheeks without the darkness of the room hiding it. Derek can now actually trace the scarlet pattern that dots the boy's skin, streaking over his pale cheeks like red velvet. It's a beautiful sight, captivating, and when he draws the dildo out another two inches Stiles's eyes snap open on a sharp hitch of a cry. Instantly, Derek is met with two whiskey-coloured eyes, the light of the moon shading the orbs into a shimmering, golden hue of amber.

He feels the wolf inside of him stirring and becoming restless.

"Oh my God,  _Derek_ ," Stiles whines, his chest a rise and fall that matches his heavy breathing. "D-Don't take it out.  _Fuck_. Please don't take it out."

Derek raises an eyebrow. "I thought that was the point," he says, drawing it out another inch, but automatically stopping when Stiles's breath hitches on a bitten-out gasp that sounds almost like a mewl. "Wasn't it?"

"Y-Y-Yes, but change of plans," he groans, rolling his hips in a small forward grind. "I want—I want you to fuck me with it."

Yep, Derek's wolf isn't going to be contained for much longer.

"You want me to…" Derek's words trail off before they even finish, and he's pushing the dildo back in, deeper than it'd been before he'd got his fingers around it.

All of Stiles's breath rushes out of him in a loud shout, back arching up and hips bucking, three dollops of pre-come leaking from the slit of his cock and spilling down the shaft. Derek catches a whiff of his scent with a sharp inhale, closing his eyes as the scent of sweet arousal and bitter, salty pre-come overpowers him and soaks into his senses.

"Fuck,  _yes_ , keep going," Stiles moans, and how can Derek say no to that? He pulls the dildo back, thrusting it forward again before setting a hard and fast in-and-out rhythm, watching the way Stiles's hands grip the bed sheet in clenched fists, head thrown back, breathing out in little whimpered huffs.

"You like that?" Derek growls huskily, twisting the dildo on an inward thrust, pulling it out all of the way until only the tip remains in Stiles's hole, and doing it again. Stiles nods jerkily, panting heavily. "What does it feel like, Stiles? Tell me."

"B-Big, so big," he gasps, a high, choked grunt punched out of him when Derek presses the head of the dildo against his prostate on a thrust. " _Ah_ , o-oh my God. There, there, there. Right there,  _fuck_."

Derek starts to rub the head of the dildo against Stiles's prostate, pressing into it firmly and massaging the small gland, cursing softly and trying not to lose his self-control as Stiles's hole clenches to the stimulation. Stiles's body suddenly turns all akimbo, legs twisting in the sheets and spine arching, head rolling back and forth against the mattress as his hips thrust forward. Derek wonders if he can take more, can't help but wriggle his index finger in alongside the dildo, thrusting it in and out in time with each press of the dildo on Stiles's prostate.

The reaction is instant.

"Derek,  _oh_ , oh my God, don't stop. Close, close, close. I'm so close," he whines, breaths hitching out in sharp bursts.

"Mmhmm. You going to come for me, Stiles?" Derek fits a second finger, pumping both in and out, watching Stiles's face go from slack pleasure to extreme bliss, mouth parted into an O. His eyes catch sight of Stiles's dick, the length of it throbbing, leaking a generous amount of pre-come that is pooling on his stomach.

Derek smirks as he suddenly has an idea. He leans forward until his head is positioned right over Stiles's dick, the head in close range of his mouth. "I know that before you said you didn't want me to look at your dick," he muses, glancing up to see Stiles's bewildered, owlish eyes staring back, "but I'm going to do something even better."

With that, he bends his head, taking Stiles's entire cock into his mouth and sucking it right down to the back of his throat.

"Oh my Go— _oh my_ —" Derek hears Stiles's words shatter themselves into garbled moans as he starts to swallow around the boy's cock, moans soon dissipating into shrill whines, tempo of his ah's and oh's rising. Derek knows it'll all be over soon. He swallows one more time, pressing the dildo in, right up against Stiles's prostate.

Just like that, Stiles is done.

When it happens, it takes all of Derek's strength and willpower not to let the wolf off the leash, to not allow it to howl in triumph that they've  _done this_.

Stiles's whole body freezes, stiff for a split second. Then he starts quivering, his whines coming out faster and faster until he surrenders to a loud, high-pitched keen. Derek feels the pulse of Stiles's cock all the way down to the back of his throat, and he swallows eagerly when hot spurts of come flood his mouth. He keeps swallowing, sucking on Stiles's cock until the last feeble drop is milked out, Stiles's choked sob a sign that he's too sensitive.

Derek backs off of Stiles's cock, giving it one last lick as he removes his fingers from Stiles's ass, along with the dildo, the boy's hole fluttering at the sensation. He places the dildo on the bed beside him, before looking up at Stiles's face.

That is when he loses it.

Stiles's face is so open and unguarded—his full, plump lips red from being bitten, his cheeks flushed, layered with a light sheen of sweat. It has Derek's dick throbbing, painfully hard in his boxer briefs, balls tingling. He shifts on the bed and winces, closing his eyes and breathing through his nose slowly.

No. No, he is  _not_ going to come in his pants like a teenager just because he'd got to make Stiles come, got to see what he looks like when he loses control, how his body trembles in orgasm and—

"D-Derek, are you okay?" Stiles asks, his voice hoarse and breathy.

Derek opens his eyes and spares another glance down at him.

And yeah, that is what does it.

He grunts, gritting his teeth together to block the sound he knows he'll make, yet it comes out anyway—as a small, shaky whimper that he wishes he could take back.

But it's too late.

"Oh. My. God." Derek squirms at the uncomfortable, warm and sticky wetness in his jeans, bracing himself for the oncoming shame, looking up to see Stiles staring at him, eyes wide like he can't believe what he'd just witnessed. "Did you just…?"

"Yeah," he sighs. There's no point in lying. Lying is childish.

"Wow. Ha-ha,  _okay_ then." Stiles chuckles giddily before letting out a short laugh. "So, like, that was your orgasm noise?"

Derek glares. "No."

"Oh, what, so that little whimper  _wasn't_ a 'oh my God, I'm coming' sound?"

" _No_."

Stiles smirks, sitting up slowly so he can place a hand on the werewolf's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, buddy. I wasn't so crash-hot with mine either."

Derek clenches his jaw, keeping his own opinions to himself. The kid doesn't need any more self-confidence or else he'll be bloody  _radiating_  it. So instead, he rolls his eyes and tells the boy to shut up. 

Because no, being immature isn't childish at all. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed reading the story, please leave kudos <3
> 
> P.S - This WILL have a sequel ;)


End file.
